


By Streetlight

by PapaNoLivesMatter



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Disintrest, Dreams, Incest, M/M, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29458569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PapaNoLivesMatter/pseuds/PapaNoLivesMatter
Summary: Gallagher's helped one another, took care of one another, loved one another. In this great big fucked up world, they were all they could truly rely on and Ian is just so fucking tired of it. His thoughts during a particular moment of Lip's vulnerability set at the end of Season 2 and with some altered timeline bits.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Lip Gallagher
Kudos: 9





	By Streetlight

**Author's Note:**

> This is some cursed as shit because its fun to explore taboo topics safely through literature because it doesn't actually hurt anyone. Yay me. if you like cursed shit, congrats, because god will judge us both in the end but I've already accepted I'd sell my soul for the sake of divine proof if nothing else. If you enjoyed or hated it let me know because I liked internet points.

He dreams of service and the brass, of the chain of command and orders from up high. He dreams that there he has his own name, his own squad, that they’ve earned both their titles and one another and that they function, not perfectly because that’s impossible, but well enough that they come to actually care for each other. There is no name for this place, on patrol. It doesn’t make sense either. It's not cold like Chicago nor hot like the “-stans” of propagandist yore but it's enough, he’s enough. There’s contentment in it, in walking with his accolades across his breast and the fact that he knows what’s going to come next.

He’s woken by a shift in his bed, and a body curled up warmly behind him. There’s the smell of cigarettes and hard liquor, it borders on being a Frank smell if not for the lack of acidic piss and vomit. Ian considers feigning sleep and trying to chase a dream that is the closest he will get away from all this and to just pretend that’s all there is. But then Lip curls his arms around Ian and rests his chin atop his brother’s shoulder until it's like they’re melded together. Damn it, Lip had even started rubbing a slow path up and down Ian’s arm like last time and at that point there’s no point trying to pretend he’s asleep.

“Hey,” Lip whispers into his ear and the stench of alcohol tempts Ian to kick him straight off the bed and hobble up Lip’s own bunk. He doesn’t though but he wants to. Ian wants to do a lot of things like find someone to fuck that isn’t a career criminal, isn’t married and isn’t related to his sister’s boyfriend. There’s a lot he wants to do on a daily basis but it's not like he’ll actually get it. So he doesn’t kick Lip off, doesn’t elbow him clear in the temple and tell him no more and that this is wrong and all that other bullshit meant for people with healthy families that actually care about one another in respectable ways. Ian Gallagher doesn’t live that reality so he simply says “hey” back.

“Karen left.” Karen. Always. Fucking. Karen. Ian doesn’t want to fight so he takes a deep breath and considers. He’s been forced away, forced from a pretty good dream so he might as well enjoy it for what it's worth. 

“Did she take the baby with her? I imagine you can always track her down through the buyer.” Lip tenses up and burrows his face into Ian’s shoulder. There’s a pang of guilt because Lip, Ian’s brilliant brother can be so, so fucking stupid sometimes and it is only ever partially his fault. 

“I’m sorry.” Ian finally says and Lip mutters a “thanks” after some time and seems to thaw out a bit.

“Can I get under the sheets?” There’s the line both verbal and metaphorical. Sure it's not always that. Sometimes it's “do you mind if I get in the back with you?” or “are you going to shower alone?” one time it was even “you know, there’s a lot of space in the back of this car.” Ian can say no, that Lip had been warned with harsh words and Ian’s own fists that this would happen. That Karen was a budding psychopath who confused her own autonomy with not giving a fuck about anyone or anything else when it stops benefiting her. But then Lip would whine and he would pout. He’d be short with Fiona when she’s just starting to be happy, to make changes for herself and fuck if Ian would let that all come crashing down after the trash fire that was Monica’s return so instead he says yes. 

Lip smiles against his skin when he does. He’s naked already, eager as always and when Ian reaches back and takes his brother’s cock in his hand, Lip lets out a groan in his ear before he kisses a trail up and down Ian’s neck. To hell with depression killing libido apparently. Lip’s hard as a rock and when Ian runs his index finger across the slit, there’s enough precum that Ian is able to coat his hand and make jerking him off easier. Lip ruts against him, bucking eagerly into his hand and Ian wonders where the thrill went. Faintly he recalls the thrill of measuring dicks together the first time. Literally, not metaphorically like the spat under the L over the exact same problem that’s got them-well, Lip-breathing so hot and heavy. It was fun then, the thrill enough keeping them both going in an early morning where they had to share a shower or be late for school. Ian had wanted to know and the rush, the taboo of it all had just been icing on the cake. Made it easier to get into it and gave him hope that maybe there was something else between him and his older brother.

Now, this, Lip clinging to Ian and muttering filthy things in his ear that somehow borders on becoming litanies is the opposite. It’s about as interesting as hearing gunshots in the southside, as seeing Frank black out drunk on the living room floor or seeing Fiona’s bag ridden stare when he dares to suggest that she take a break and that Ian can take over for a while. So instead of focusing on his brother who’s trying to pull him closer, to turn him over so they could rub cocks together like they had done previously, to kiss him with all the desperation of a man stranded in the desert and Ian the oasis in the distance, Ian keeps his pace and thinks of other things.

He wants to be a captain in the military, he decides. It will be grunt work at first mostly, chores and such and will probably stir the same feeling as jerking off Lip when his heart is broken over the latest cunt he’s fucking closing up. Ian imagines he’ll find someone there, maybe a senior officer with his own bunk or some other improbable nonsense. Maybe a pilot at the base he’s stationed at or a squad mate. Older than him because, let’s face it, that still gets him going even when his brother moaning his name has long since become the same background noise of gunshots or Frank’s drunken snoring. Ian would fuck him senseless, this imaginary man. Not a brutal mechanical piston fucking like he’d given to Mickey and tried on Lip who was too afraid. Not the faux sensual kind that Kash tried to coax him into or the substance addled dances with Lloyd that are mostly fun because of the atmosphere. No, Ian would hold him close, like Lip did him now, entwined together in a mess of sweaty limbs and sweaty needs but beneath it all there would be the understanding. Love even. 

‘Fuck I’m close-please-don’t-stop!”

Maybe they’d get out at the same time. Maybe Ian would go back to school afterwards on the government’s dollar and they could get a place together somewhere else. Some place where it doesn’t snow and Frank doesn’t snore and there aren’t gunshots. A place where the name “Gallagher'' is reserved for obscure steakhouse chains and not met with scorn. But that fantasy shatters around the same time Lip cums with a strangled shout. Ian’s hand is soaked with cum and despite his best attempts to catch it, he knows that it's going onto his sheets. Ian lays on his side for a while, watching the light bleeding into the room from his window as Lip slowly steadies his breathing. Ian won’t leave. He knows he won’t, knows he can’t because, just like he can’t turn Lip away despite the fact that its like filing fucking taxes at this point, he loves his family.

“Thank you.” Lip whispers in his ear and presses a long deep kiss to his cheek, as Ian had turned away to prevent one on his mouth, and then Lip is shambling away back to his bunk.

“Fuck you.” Ian mutters but he’s not sure who to. To Lip for doing this here now? For Karen for being the perfect blend of uncaring cunt and independent woman? For Monica and Frank because they had Ian and his siblings? For himself for still doing this? It doesn’t matter in the end. Ian rolls over after wiping his hand off on the discarded clothing Lip left by his bedside and tries to dream again of a life he’ll never have: of a life without Gallaghers.


End file.
